Comes to Here

The true depth of your freak is extensive, of that fact I am definitely clear,

Subterfuge is so often restrictive and unneeded when it,

Comes to here.

Stretch your sensuous legs and emotions, out onto their most infinite edge,

Let your moans emanate from your arches, and explode out the top of your head.

Point your toes so, so sweet that you wonder,

if maybe your calves,

will they cramp?

Cause it’s not about me, it’s all about you,

Yet I love when the flowerbed’s damp.

Pucker up, lick your lips, let me raise those sweet hips,

let your innermost place shout and cheer,

All I need is a clue, about what’s good to you, and your nectar will call,

Comes to here.

I’m not speaking of setting world records, ‘cause no one in this life shall we tell,

But if your back you will arch and your thighs spread apart,

We’ll explore what’s below that will swell. 

To some this may seem quite surprising, It may startle or take you aback,

‘Cause what I feel like tasting, is what you are encasing,

in those stockings…the color is black.

So maybe you’re thinking, Just what has he been drinking,

to think that this piece is good prose?

Yet you would think better, If you served up that cheddar,

How ‘bout I begin at your toes?

I’d stroke everything lightly, swirl my tongue oh so slightly,  

If you like it too much, just say when.

With my fingers, I’d stroke it, not be crude and just poke it,  

It’s all you from the start to the end.

What you read here right now is not bragging, I am truly quite humble my dear,

What I ask is perchance, to make the little man dance, so I beckon you love,

Comes to here. 

Charles Hill